Somewhere at the End of the World
by DandyBoyDaniel
Summary: There is a place at the end of the world where the stories of men begin to disappear beneath the shroud of Time and Nature. Here, at the edge of civilization, sits an eons-old stone that kept the secrets of the two boys who used to meet there. AS/S Slash


_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I benefit financially from using J.K. Rowling's characters._

_Author's Note and Warnings: This story includes non-graphic slash and a bit of explicit language. It's more somber and angsty than what I've published before. I highly recommend you listen to music to add to the experience of reading this, and suggest anything by Dustin O'Halloran or Keane. Please review and feel free to peruse my other stories if you enjoyed this one._

"Somewhere At The End of the World"

There is a place at the end of the world, where the stories of men that would be told for generations begin to disappear beneath the shroud of time and nature, crumbling under the lush quilt of moss and the intricately woven blanket of vines, as the divine goddess quietly and slowly erases the sins of humankind.

At the end of the world is a stone. The stone is eons old, born in the verdant and ragged hills of the Scottish Highlands, hewn by the hands of men a thousand years ago. These men breathed new life into the stone, shaped it, harnessed its strength, and gave it significance. But the significance of this great heap of grey rock changed over a long span of human history, such that only the stone knew every story. What was lost to antiquity remained inside, unknown to any living person. Even the ghosts have forgotten.

The ancient stone had once proudly served as a rampart of a towering castle high on a green hill. It looked out over the vast landscape of grassy knolls, jagged cliffs, and wild forest. It admired its reflection in an endless black lake below. It enjoyed this lofty position, reminiscent of its birthplace high in the distant mountains whose snow-covered peaks were visible in the distant horizon. Its greater surroundings had not changed much over the millennia, relative to the internal vicissitudes of the structure it was a part of. Inside the castle had lived lords and ladies, barons and barbarians, and most recently, witches and wizards.

The end of the world is not the true edge of civilization. It only feels that way to someone who stands there and surveys the seemingly infinite wilderness that lay beyond in immeasurable lands where the touch of human influence has never left any lasting fingerprints. Here, the massive heap of stone now sits, at the edge of the lake, perched upon a bed of pebbles that are so old and eroded that their surfaces are marble smooth. Here, there is a soothing silence, a palpable peace. Here, the sounds of children that ring out from the nearby castle are swallowed by a barely audible fluid whisper as the lake licks at the pebbled shore. And on the Eastern bank, the whisper is answered by the breathy sigh of wind as it scintillates through the dense forest. Here, men breathe secrets into the crisp air and know their secrets will be kept – by Nature, by the creatures that speak inhuman languages, by Time.

When the rock came to live here, the year, in human terms, was 1998. A great force of mortal evil moved it, irreverently, to take what was hidden inside. In recent human history, this was a monumental event, one that would change the world of wizards. Many people died, several of them children, as this hunk of stone and others were blasted away and scattered about the green. In the end, the castle was nearly in ruins, but Evil had lost the war.

The more manageable stones that had tumbled off the building were restored to new places in the castle when it was rebuilt in the years thereafter. The larger pieces, such as this one, remained as monuments punctuating the landscape – reminders that a great war was fought here, that people had given their lives to ensure a more peaceful future.

Here, at the end of the world, is where two boys used to meet, by a piece of the ruins of the old Hogwarts Castle, at foot of the hill that supports the new Hogwarts Castle.

They were eleven-years-old when they discovered the stone. It was the perfect hiding place, standing at five-feet tall with the berth to conceal perhaps three more children their size. Not many children played around this rock over the decade it had stood there. The rocky shore was slippery, cold, and uncomfortable to sit upon. The stone itself was somewhat bothersome to climb with its smooth surfaces, and was a bit of an inconvenience to walk to from the castle. Thus the two boys enjoyed some measure of privacy here. It became their special, secret place where they would convene to escape from the other young wizards who studied and lived within the castle on the hill.

"I'll meet you at the end of the world," they would whisper to each other, when the promise of silence and seclusion beckoned. They could flee from expectations they couldn't live up to, from prejudice, from eyes that watched them constantly, and from the burden of their names.

They were blissfully unaware of the irony. Their fathers fought on opposing sides in the battle that had blasted the rock so far from what had been its home for generations, generations that had predated their family lines. One could even say, and often people _did_ say this, that the war was fought _for_ one of these men, or more politically appropriate, for what he represented. This man was indirectly responsible for putting this rock here. The other boy's father had once served the aggressors whose powerful spells broke the stone from the castle walls. And it was _this_ man who gave the two boys a reason to hide there.

~S~

It was with great difficulty that Scorpius Malfoy found the stone again, twenty years after he and Albus Potter claimed it as their place at the end of the world. The moss that once sprouted from cracks and crevices now covered nearly half of it. The vines of an aquatic plant that had once crept from the murky water to tickle the base of the stone now enveloped the lakeside edge of the rock. Time and Nature had already begun to reclaim the stone and bury the stories he and Albus had once whispered to it, the history they had created here. It was painful for Scorpius to realize how easily their story could be erased. He could feel the sting of impending tears in his eyes as he stood by the rock and surveyed the otherwise unchanged landscape at the end of the world.

He had to peel off some of the moss to be completely certain this was indeed the stone – _their_ stone, though the unmistakable view was most telling. Sure enough, nearly lost to the elements, was their mark. Scorpius shuddered slightly and began to cry as he wiped away the soil and tiny roots that had clung to the engravings.

When Albus and Scorpius were thirteen, they had etched a heart into the rock and carved their initials inside.

Scorpius slumped to his knees, the smooth, grey cobbles making a melodic sound as he sank, absorbing the noise of a pained whimper. The shadow of the stone embraced him and the wind carried away his quiet sobs as Scorpius cried for what felt like hours. He wept for all that he had lost. When he had lost Albus, it had felt like he'd lost everything. At the time, he could not have known that he still had so much more to lose. And now Scorpius sat here with absolutely nothing left, wishing the moss and vines would claim him and return him to the soil.

~S~

Hiding had once been fun for Scorpius. It was thrilling to run down the hill to the lake and jog over the pebbles along the shore until he reached the end of the world. He would crouch behind the rock, resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath, bubbling with anticipation. He'd wait for the rhythmic sound of feet on cobbles, that musical sort of glassy sound, and smile as the sound came and grew closer. The sound brought with it a boy - the most wonderful boy Scorpius had ever met, with eyes as green as the grassy emerald hills and dark hair as wild as the forbidden forest. Sometimes, when Scorpius was lucky, or late, or a bit of both, Albus would already be waiting behind the rock for him, wearing a smile that punctuated his freckled cheeks with dimples.

In the castle, or anywhere in public really, Scorpius was not permitted to acknowledge Albus as anything more than a fellow Slytherin student. It had been like this since their second year at school. Draco Malfoy still had a terrible grudge against Harry Potter, one that Scorpius would never understand. More confounding was why he and Albus had to suffer because of it. If Scorpius wanted to remain at Hogwarts, rather than be transferred to Durmstrang, he would have to end his friendship with _The Potter Boy_. But Albus was his only friend at school – his best friend. If he had to continue their relationship in secret, it was a small price to pay to keep the boy he admired so deeply, the boy he grew to love.

At the end of the world, Scorpius and Albus were free to be themselves. When they were twelve, it meant they were free to be best mates, skipping smooth, flat rocks on the lake, tormenting the giant squid, and laughing about the things boys found amusing at that age. When they were thirteen, it meant more than that. Their secret place at the end of the world afforded them the freedom to love each other. The privacy behind the stone gave them freedom to kiss, to caress, to fondle and to explore their bodies as they blossomed into manhood. They could whisper adorations to one another, and the stone would keep their love a secret. By the time they were fifteen, they were free to be lovers here, to desperately rut against the rock in an impassioned embrace, to escape the world by losing themselves inside each other.

But one can only expect somebody to hide for so long before it begins to take its emotional toll. Eventually, hiding began to wear on them. In the world outside, Scorpius felt alienated, alone amidst the people his father chose as his companions. He was so tired of constantly pretending and hiding, of lying and swallowing the truth. He felt most awful for being unable to acknowledge the boy he loved.

Albus was lucky. Though he had to hide the identity of his lover, he didn't have to hide the fact that he was gay. He felt the same alienation that Scorpius felt, but was free to do something about it. Scorpius admired his boyfriend's bravery. If he had done what Albus had, he would have been disowned by his family or transferred to another school. Likely, both. Professor Scamander, who was a close friend of Albus' family, started a ground-breaking group for children like her son, Lysander, in which gay students could find support. Albus was the first to join. Though Professor Scamander kept the identity of the members a secret for their own safety, Scorpius was still too afraid to attend the weekly support meetings. He had to battle his inner demons alone, without guidance.

While Albus was becoming empowered and self-confident, Scorpius only withdrew. He didn't bother keeping up the façade of false friendships and became less and less social. Depression began to eat away at him. He wasn't much company for Albus, always sulking in self-loathing while nothing his boyfriend could say or do made him feel like any less of a disappointment. They would bicker often. Sex became a loveless routine, a means to get off. Sometimes, Albus wouldn't show up at their usual meeting times. Scorpius would wait behind the stone, lonely, cold, and bloody angry. But he could never let Albus know how much it hurt in fear of losing him. He had nobody left to lean on but Albus. So he kept his bitterness and pain locked inside.

At the end of fifth year, Albus broke things off with Scorpius. Scorpius didn't blame him. He wouldn't want to stay friends with himself either. They both understood that, though they still loved each other, their relationship was going nowhere. They were stifling each other's growth.

Scorpius still felt compelled to visit their stone at the end of the world. It was still his safe haven, filled with memories that could occupy his mind for hours. He would sit on the pebbles, rest his back on the large rock, and remember what it felt like to be happy, to be loved. He'd recall the warmth of being held and feeling safe, the sensation of dying and being reborn when Albus used to make love to him. He'd weep there – bitter, angry tears of regret. He would sit alone and stew in self-loathing, praying for the strength to be who he really was, to love freely and openly. Sometimes he'd long for companionship and foolishly hope that Albus would come back to this place, to _their_ place. But Scorpius was truly alone at the end of the world.

~S~

About 500 meters down from the end of the world, rising from the black mirror of the lake, a great monument was to be erected. The monument would be hewn from stone that had been born in a completely different world, from white marble that had spent geologic history metamorphosing from prehistoric sand somewhere in Italy. The pale stone would be unlike any of the dark rocks of its new home. And akin to the human it was meant to commemorate, the marble would be transplanted from another realm and assimilate to the wet surroundings. It would be hewn into an obelisk – tall, slender, and silent. It would stoically keep vigil over the place where a soul had gone to rest. This stone was not meant to keep secrets, it was meant to tell a story. The marble would be engraved with gold letters that read:

_In honor of Genevieve Narcissa Malfoy, who sought to conquer The Black Lake she loved so dearly. On the 1st of June, 2036, the lake claimed her life, taking her home to its mysterious depths. May her spirit continue to explore the wonders below the surface. She will be remembered for her bravery and her thirst for knowledge._

Scorpius' love for his daughter Genevieve was greater than any he had ever felt before. It eclipsed the love he had felt for Albus once. He was grateful for that. She had, in a sense, saved his life.

Genevieve came as a happy accident.

Upon Scorpius' return to Hogwarts for his sixth year, he found Albus had moved on, quite spectacularly, with Lysander Scamander. Scorpius was so bitter that his acrid spit could have burned a hole through stone like acid. He could have let his jealousy destroy him. Instead, out of sheer desperation, he started dating the most sought-after girl in Hogwarts, Marcella Flint. She had been a year ahead of Scorpius and had always carried a torch for him. Though he had no true affection for her, she managed to keep his mind occupied enough to not want to slit his wrists every time he saw Albus and Lysander together.

It was easy to feign a relationship with Marcella, who was pretty and took initiative. It was even easier to get her into bed, and shockingly easy to get her pregnant. The Malfoys and The Flints, two very prominent pure-blood families, thought it was in everyone's best interest to betroth Marcella to Scorpius in light of this scandal. Marcella left school prematurely, gave birth to their daughter, and waited for Scorpius to turn seventeen before becoming his wife. Scorpius hardly saw his daughter or his wife during his last year of school. Once he finished at Hogwarts, Marcella and Genevieve moved into Malfoy Manor with him. Scorpius quickly fell in love with the delicate little creature that he had unintentionally helped to create. He was never in love with his wife, but he grew to love her as the mother of his beautiful baby girl. Genevieve was the cement that held their unstable marriage together, and gave Scorpius a reason to live.

For as long as he could remember, it seemed Genevieve felt at home in the water. She would giggle with utter glee in the bath, splashing madly amidst the bubbles, making her father smile adoringly. In the summer, Scorpius would take Genevieve swimming in the lake on the Malfoy estate or in the sea near Nana Cissy's villa in Nice. She would scare her parents half to death with how long she could keep her head underwater, holding her breath. They would call her their little mermaid and joked that she spent so much time in the water, she would soon develop webbed feet.

When she was nearly eleven, Scorpius had mentioned in passing that his dormitory at Hogwarts had been in the dungeons of the castle, beneath the Black Lake. He watched Genevieve's silver-blue eyes light up with wonder when he told her about the floor-to-ceiling glass panes in the Slytherin common room that were a window into an underwater world, where mermaids and grindylows were a daily sight.

Scorpius wondered if the fact that she was sorted into Slytherin was based on her burning desire to live beneath the lake, where she could convene with all the aquatic creatures through the glass. When he received her owl, excitedly regaling the elation of being sorted, he could close his eyes and imagine the wonderment on her rosy-cheeked face as she entered the common room for the first time. He could see her little hands frantically wiping the condensation off the glass to catch her first glimpse of a world she had never swam to before, in the murky depths of the lake.

He was rather hesitant to grant her permission, when Genevieve sent home a notice her second year at school regarding The Acquatic Explorers Club. It was a new organization, lead by Professor Scamander's assistant and son, Lorcan (who happened to be Lysander's twin brother) in which students earned extra credit by diving into the lake to study its underwater ecosystem. Typically, members had to be fourteen and older for safety reasons. But Genevieve was such an adept swimmer, and already quite good at the bubble-head charm, that Lorcan thought they could make an exception. Scorpius couldn't bear to make her wait two more years to join, since water was her passion.

At the time, Genevieve gave him no reason to regret signing that permission notice. She had completed a dozen successful dives before the winter hols and gushed about all she had discovered throughout Christmas dinner, impressing her grandparents greatly. For his dear granddaughter's birthday, Draco took the entire family to Australia, where Genevieve could explore the Great Barrier Reef over Easter break. Scorpius had never seen his daughter so happy, and in turn never felt so alive, as when they dove together in the Coral Sea and chased exotic fish.

So it came as a complete shock when Head Mistress McGonagall came to the manor in the middle of the night in June to tell Scorpius and Marcella that their daughter, their precious little mermaid, had drowned in the lake earlier that day.

The Explorers had taken a boat far off shore to search for a rare species of fresh water plimpie. It was a safety protocol for two people to stay on the boat at all times while the others dived. The group members would rotate in fifteen-minute shifts. During Genevieve's shift on the boat, her partner fell overboard, or more likely, was pulled into the water by one of the more playful creatures of the deep. Presumably in her haste to dive in after him, Genevieve failed to cast the bubble-head charm on herself, and in her brave search for the fallen student, somehow drowned. The boy was safely recovered, but Genevieve's drenched, lifeless body was pulled from the lake after a search that lasted until dark.

~S~

Scorpius slowly traced the etched heart with his finger. _Yes. This is the one_.

He knew that this was the stone that should serve as the base for his daughter's monument. It was the first thing he thought of when the architect had shown him the designs. A series of boulders would be sunk into the lake to bolster the marble obelisk so that it appeared to be rising effortlessly out of the water. The giant stone would sit, just below the surface of the water, unseen and mostly unknown, just like his love for Albus had been.

He had agonized over burying his daughter – the person he loved above everyone else, even himself. He had buried his unstable marriage with a huge sigh of relief – his wife had blamed him for Genevieve's death and filed for divorce. Now it was time to bury his past so that he could finally move on. He would let Nature and Time fade his history, but on his own terms.

The memorial dedication ceremony had drawn a large crowd, likely because it was open to the public, unlike Genevieve's very private funeral. It was a humid August morning, and the mist rolling down from the hills gave the landscape an ethereal quality, as if it existed somewhere in the clouds. Headmistress McGonagall presided over the solemn event and was the first to speak about the person she had known Genevieve to be – outgoing, adventurous almost to the point of being reckless, filled with the spirit of exploration and a deep love for the world beneath the surface of the water, a world that was not truly her own, but one she respected and adapted to better than any other witch her age. McGonagall fondly posed that Genevieve probably would have been sorted into Gryffindor, were it not for her strong affinity for water and the Black Lake beneath which the Slytherins lived.

Next to speak was Lorcan Scamander, who had been Genevieve's mentor. Then his mother spoke, Professor Scamander, who had taught Genevieve (as well as Scorpius) Magical Ecology. She was followed by several of Genevieve's close friends. The Malfoys and The Flints were too heartbroken to eulogize, and sat in chairs that had been conjured at the lakeshore, huddled like pale, slender marble statues to match the white obelisk in the water.

Scorpius, flanked by his parents, set a wreath of white lilies upon the surface of the water and charmed it to float towards the middle of the lake where the monument stood. Marcella did the same, holding on to her father, Marcus, like a lifeline, unable to even look at Scorpius. Narcissa and Lucius contributed their wreaths. Aunts, uncles, cousins, family friends, students and professors all added their own tokens of remembrance and respect until a vast bed of white flowers floated upon the water, surrounding the obelisk.

One of the last people to set a single white blossom upon the surface of the water was Albus Potter, followed by Lysander. Of course, Lysander would be there for his brother and his mother. Albus, by easy deduction, must have been there for Lysander. A part of Scorpius that hadn't managed to hurt before was now aching. It went beyond old bitterness and jealousy – it was the pain of yearning.

Scorpius wanted to hide with Albus once more, to escape the agony of his brutal reality, wanted to run to the edge of civilization to a silent place, and be with him at the end of the world.

After the dedication, after all those present gave him their condolences, and even after the family had gone to the Great Hall of the castle for tea, Scorpius remained alone, standing on the pebbles and gazing out over the water. There were no words that could properly explain the grief one felt when losing a child. Scorpius had truly lost everything now, including his trust in the gods who had so cruelly taken Genevieve from him at such a young age. Empty, loveless, faithless. He should have been angry – with himself for indulging his daughter's dangerous whims, with Lorcan and his stupid club, with the dumb kid that fell off the boat, with everybody that could have saved Genevieve. But Scorpius simply felt nothing.

Lost in his own bleak blankness, Scorpius hadn't heard the melodic sound of feet on cobbles approaching. The feel of somebody's hand on his shoulder startled him, but not enough for him to react more than to flinch slightly.

"I can't imagine what you're going through, Scorpius," said Albus softly. Scorpius turned to look at him. He had aged well and still had freckles, making him appear younger than twenty-nine. His green eyes were sincere and looked opalescent as they reflected the white flowers on the lake. He continued, "I wish I could empathize and offer you some sort of words of comfort. But all I can say is I'm sorry for your loss. Truly, I am."

Scorpius gave a small nod to acknowledge Albus' sentiments, which he knew were honest.

Albus' hand remained on Scorpius' shoulder as he added, "And I know a lot of people are saying this, but if you need anything, I'm here. I mean it."

Scorpius had remained stoic throughout the ceremony. He had felt too empty to cry, until now. His shoulders shook silently as the tears began to pool in his eyes. And when they fell, so did the quiet sobs fall from his lips. Albus took him in his arms and held him tightly, as if thirteen years hadn't passed since they were friends. Scorpius felt like a child again – vulnerable and open, but safe within Albus' encircling warmth. He buried his face into Albus' chest and inwardly noted that he still smelled the same, like lavender and leather.

Scorpius collected himself enough to apologize. "I'm sorry. I'm such a mess." He pulled away and dabbed his face with a handkerchief.

"You're entitled to be," said Albus. "And, really, I don't mind. Seriously, I'm here for you… Unless you'd rather that I not be, which is totally understandable. I mean, we haven't talked in ages." There was a short, tense silence before Albus was now the one apologizing. "I'm sorry for that. You were my best mate and I should've been there for you, even if I couldn't be your boyfriend."

"It's alright," Scorpius mumbled. Which was not the reply he would have given, had this conversation not occurred under such grave circumstances. He would have thrown all the pent up anger and bitterness he had felt as a teen-ager right at Albus' face with a heart-felt _fuck you._

"Do you need to be alone?" asked Albus.

Scorpius shook his head and returned his blank stare to the white obelisk. He and Albus stood together in silence, close enough that their shoulders touched, but too far apart for Scorpius' liking. He had tasted Albus' affection again and found that he needed him now.

Eventually Scorpius broke the silence. "I wish we could go back to our place at the end of the world."

"Yeah…" Albus said, with reminiscence and regret coloring that single word.

Somberly, Scorpius added, "But I know we can never go back."

Almost coyly, Albus responded softly, "We could, you know. If you needed to. I'll go with you, Scor."

Scorpius looked at Albus with watery eyes. "As much as I want to, we can't, Albie."

Albus insisted gently, "No, really, we can. I know you and Marcella are getting a divorce. And me and Lysander, we're just friends."

"You don't understand. It's gone."

Albus just looked at Scorpius quizzically. Scorpius turned to the lake and pointed towards Genevieve's obelisk. "It's there. The stone. The one with our initials on it. It's under the monument." He started to cry again, this time silently. "We can never go back."

Albus cupped Scorpius' cheek to return his gaze to him. "Then let's move forward." With that, he closed the distance between their faces and kissed him.

~S~

At the end of the world, two men stood, at the edge of a black lake. Their history lay hidden beneath the mirrored surface of the water, written on an ancient stone. But their future floated upon the gentle ripples, carried by the wind that echoed their memories, whispering their secrets as a reminder. The wind carried their future far from the end of the world, for the end of the world was not the end at all. It was the beginning.


End file.
